


Match

by emphasisonem



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, College, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Mutual Pining, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Teacher-Student Relationship, they are both adults
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 19:39:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6920362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emphasisonem/pseuds/emphasisonem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The situation’s actually kind of funny from the right perspective, Bucky thinks as he reads the message for what feels like the hundredth time. He’s finally matched with a hot, funny guy. Tall and broad and clean cut. An absolutely breathtaking smile. Bucky’s walking wet dream. And he’s good. They haven’t messaged on the app, but Bucky already knows him.</p><p>He knows him because Steve Rogers is an art history professor at his university. His art history professor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Match

**Author's Note:**

> Saw a post on Tumblr and couldn't get this idea out of my head. Hope you enjoy!

The situation’s actually kind of funny from the right perspective, Bucky thinks as he reads the message for what feels like the hundredth time. He’s finally matched with a hot, funny guy. Tall and broad and clean cut. An absolutely breathtaking smile. Bucky’s walking wet dream. And he’s _good._ They haven’t messaged on the app, but Bucky already knows him.

He knows him because Steve Rogers is an art history professor at his university. _His_ art history professor.

Bucky reads the message again.

**_SteveRogers: I’d like to take this slightly awkward opportunity to let you know you don’t need to worry about passing the class anymore. You got a B. Nice job :)_ **

_Should I respond?_ Bucky thinks. _How should I respond? Maybe I should ignore the message? That’d be rude, though, especially since he told me my final grade._

_Fuck._

 

* * *

 

Steve knows he’s in trouble the second he sees James Barnes.

In a class full of awkward 18-year-old freshmen, it’s easy to figure out which student is the 29-year-old army veteran. What Steve isn’t expecting is a tall, leanly-muscled man with piercing gray eyes and longish, light brown hair in which he desperately wants to fist his hands.

Steve doesn’t realize how tightly he’s gripping the podium until the man in question - who of course takes a seat right up front - glances down at his hands, then looks up with a furrowed brow.

“All right there, teach?” He asks with a small smile and eyes full of concern and Steve’s knees nearly buckle when those stormy eyes meet his. _Shit. Shit shit shit._

“Yeah, uh, still get a little bit of stage fright on the first day sometimes,” Steve chuckles with a tight smile. It’s a bald-faced lie; Steve could teach this class in his sleep. But the guy seems to buy it, nodding with a compassionate smile.

“I’m sure you’ll be great,” Barnes smiles and _fucking winks at him._

“Thanks,” Steve grins, looking down and shuffling papers to at least _attempt_ to cover the fact that he’s blushing.

He’s so fucked.

 

* * *

 

Bucky’s so fucked.

He’d balked whenever his academic advisor had insisted he get gen-ed electives out of the way because they got _in the way_ of his biology classes and labs, and Dr. Banner had let him get away with it semester after semester. He needs an art class to graduate, though, and Banner flat out refuses to grant him an independent study in his final semester. Something about broadening his horizons and experiencing new things. Bucky had been pissed but now he’s debating whether it would be appropriate to send a thank-you note to Banner for pushing him into this stupid art history class, considering the professor is absolutely delectable.

The man standing up at the front of the classroom in dark gray slacks and a navy sweater that hugs his next-to-impossible body just right is an Adonis.Bucky had known plenty of attractive guys in the army, and he’d appreciated them from a cautious distance, but this guy - Professor Steven Grant Rogers, according to the syllabus- is built like a brick house. Hardly what he’d been expecting from a man with a Masters degree in fine arts.

Steve is gathering his papers and placing them in a well-worn leather briefcase when Bucky approaches him after class is dismissed.

“Can I help you with something, James?” Steve smiles and Bucky’s a little stunned by the beauty of it.

“No, uh, I just. I usually go by Bucky. Nobody calls me James except my ma. And that’s only when she’s angry.”

Steve chuckles at that. “Bucky?” 

“Short for Buchanan. Middle name.”

“Ah,” Steve appears lost in thought for a moment, then jots a note to himself on the attendance sheet. “James Buchanan Barnes. Noted.”

“Planning on using my full name if I misbehave, teach?” Bucky’s smirk is out in full force before he can help it, but Steve barks out a laugh, so Bucky’s only a little mortified. Bucky wants more of that laughter, he’s greedy for it. He’s also fairly certain that if his professor ever uses his full name he’ll just about lose his shit.

“No, Mr. Barnes, the last thing I want is you thinking of me the way you think of your ma,” Steve’s smile is warm and his eyes light up with a mischievous glint. Bucky’s almost positive the man is flirting with him, but doesn’t want to push his good luck. Not too far.

“You makin’ fun of the way I talk, teach? You’re not bad at imitating a Brooklyn accent, ya know?”

“Well, that could be because I grew up in Brooklyn, too, Bucky.”

“No shit,” Bucky grins.

“No shit.”

 

* * *

 

Steve isn’t surprised when Bucky comes to him after the first test. The guy has a lot of insightful comments in class, but that knowledge hadn’t shown up on the test.

“Hey, Rogers,” Bucky gives him a sad smile and holds up the test paper with a red F written in Steve’s careful block print. Steve didn’t want to fail Bucky. Had, in fact, wanted his favorite student to pass with ease.

“Bucky,” Steve’s smile is rueful. “You had some trouble with the test. How can I help?”

“Well, recommending a tutor would be a start, I guess,” Bucky says with a sigh.

“Several of your classmates -” Steve starts, but Bucky cuts him off as politely as possible.

“Excuse me, professor, I get that some of the kids in this class are passing with flying colors, but I’d rather work with someone a little closer to my age. I was just wondering if you knew any CCS tutors who might be a good fit.”

Steve frowns. The College of Continuing Studies is short on resources when it comes to arts and the humanities. Most of  the older students at the university are business majors, so that’s where most of their focus is.

“I can’t think of a soul, but I can tutor you if you’d feel more comfortable working with an actual adult,” the offer is out of Steve’s mouth before he really has a chance to reflect on what a monumentally bad idea tutoring a student he has a crush on is.

“Really?” Bucky’s eyes shine with hope and Steve’s kicking himself. Of course he’s going to go through with it, even if this is the worst idea he’s ever had. He can’t let Bucky down.

“Really,” Steve smiles. “My office hours are Tuesdays and Thursdays from 12-2. That work for you?”

“Tuesdays, yeah. I have a bio lab at 12:30 on Thursdays, though,” Bucky replies.

“Well, we’ll start with Tuesdays and if we need to add hours, we’ll figure out the times as we go,” Steve says, knowing he’s just digging the hole deeper.

“You’re a lifesaver, teach,” Bucky says and pulls him into a tight, quick embrace. Steve can barely breathe as the strong arms encircle him, releasing him all too quickly. Bucky’s scent lingers in the air around him and it’s all he can do not to inhale it.

“See you tomorrow at 12,” Bucky calls as he walks out of the classroom.

“Tomorrow,” Steve murmurs. He takes a deep steadying breath.

 _You are a grown ass man,_ Steve rationalizes. _You can do this. You can tutor a student without doing anything stupid._

But, as always, his common sense barges in just as he’s managed to convince himself this might be okay.

_This is the fucking dumbest thing you’ve done in years, Rogers. What are you thinking?_

He’s thinking he wants to get to know Bucky, even if it is a terrible idea.

 

* * *

 

The first tutoring session goes well, Bucky thinks. Steve shows him some studying techniques that seem to help him better remember the concepts and paintings they discuss in class. Steve also shows Bucky the benefits of quickly outlining his points before beginning to write an essay on a particular piece.

“It’s easier to finish essay questions like the ones on our tests if you map out what you’re going to say,” Steve explains as they outline a sample question on the whiteboard in an empty classroom. “It’s easy to get caught up in one point and then forget the next point you were going to make.”

Bucky nods, tongue poking out of his mouth slightly as he concentrates on fine-tuning the points for the sample question (which Steves thinks is possibly the cutest thing he’s ever seen). He’s so deep in concentration he almost jumps out of his skin when Steve exclaims, “I didn’t know you could draw!”

“Huh?” Bucky starts, turning to face his professor. 

Steve holds up Bucky’s biology binder with the drawing of a cell on the cover.

“I didn’t know you could draw,” he repeats with a smile. “This attention to detail is incredible, Buck. And the shading. It’s a shame my drawing classes are only open to art majors. You wouldn’t need a tutor for that.”

Bucky can feel the blush blooming on his cheeks and tries to ignore the stutter step of his heart when Steve calls him _Buck_.

“Just a diagram. We all have to be able to diagram,” he says, kicking at the ground like a bashful child.

“Yeah, but I bet most of the other bio majors’ diagrams don’t look as nice as yours,” the mischievous glint is back in Steve’s eyes and it takes every ounce of Bucky’s strength not to march over and kiss the smirk right off his face.

“Well, thanks,” Bucky mumbles. “I like drawing, I guess. Soothing.”

“I agree,” Steve’s smile is a little less flirtatious but no less genuine. “When you’re creating something you’ve got a sense of control. Of course, once you’re done the piece you start to dissect every flaw and what was a masterpiece yesterday becomes the worst thing you’ve ever done. But while you’re creating? Top of the world, ma.”

 _He’s incredible,_ Bucky thinks as he stares into his professor’s stupidly blue eyes. On the heels of that thought is, _Christ, when did we get so close?_ And they are close. Mere inches apart from one another. Bucky’s practically vibrating because of their proximity, can feel the ghost of Steve’s exhales on his chapped lips, but he’s afraid to move, afraid to break the magical hush that’s fallen between them. 

Just as Bucky thinks Steve might lean forward and kiss him, the older man takes a few steps back, scanning the outline Bucky has put together on the whiteboard.

“Good outline,” Steve says. “You hit all the right points. I don’t think finishing essays will be an issue next test.”

Steve’s voice is pretty calm, but Bucky doesn’t miss the slight crack on the word _good_ or the tense set of Steve’s shoulders and jaw. Bucky’s glad he’s not the only one affected, but he understands that they need to act like it was no big deal. He’s a lot older than most of Steve’s students, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay for anything to happen between them. 

“Good,” Bucky says, and if he sounds a little breathless, neither of them mention it. “Thanks for your help, teach. I better get going, but I’ll see you in class tomorrow. Have a good day.”

“You too, Bucky,” Steve replies, and Bucky would swear the man sounds wistful.

He knows the feeling.

 

* * *

 

The next few weeks are some of the best Steve’s ever had, and he hates himself for it. Hates himself for how he feels about his student because it’s _wrong_ even if Bucky’s certainly old enough for Steve.

And Bucky is just about _perfect_. He’s funny and smart and he loves dogs. Despite leaving the services minus an arm (he shows Steve an impressive metal prosthetic during one of their afternoon study sessions in March), he’s unbelievably positive. Sure, he still has nightmares about the day he lost it, he tells Steve, but he’s alive. That’s the thing to focus on.

“If the army taught me anything,” he says, “It’s that you take advantage of every second above ground.”

Every day spent with Bucky is a day Steve realizes he’s a little further gone on the man. He finds his eyes drawn toward Bucky in class and the younger man is almost always staring back, a small smirk usually playing at his lips.

Steve prays the other students don’t notice the tension.

 

* * *

 

They’ve added Wednesday nights at a local coffee shop to their study schedule, and Bucky’s in trouble because he looks forward to this class and these tutoring sessions more than anything else all week. It’s a miracle he’s not failing any of his other classes.

Bucky looks up from the reading to ask Steve a question about Henri Matisse and sees an odd expression he can’t quite place on the man’s face. He turns around to check out what Steve’s staring at and sees two students in line, kissing and giggling like they’re the only two people in the room.

“I’m not into PDA either, man,” Bucky chuckles and Steve startles slightly.

“What? Oh, no, I just,” Steve starts, then shakes his head. “Forget about it, what was your question?”

“Rogers, what’s up? You can talk to me. We both know I’m your favorite student, even if I do look kind of like a homeless drifter.”

Steve snorts and shakes his head, then sighs, gaze back on the young couple.

“I don’t know, I guess I just miss that, you know? Having somebody. I was married for a few years.” 

Bucky’s heart is in his throat. This is an unexpected turn in the conversation, to say the least, and if Steve turns out to be straight he’s pretty sure he’ll be inconsolable for the rest of his life.

“Her name was Peggy. We got married kind of young; we were both 25. We had five really good years. She, uh, she passed away about three years ago. Cancer,” Steve sighs. “I know she’d want me to move on, though, be happy. She’d want me to find a man or a woman who’d love me the way she did.”

Bucky lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and Steve looks perplexed for a moment. “What?” he asks. “I hit a nerve? You lose somebody too?”

“No, I just,” Bucky’s shifts his gaze away from Steve’s too-blue eyes. “I’m glad you told me. You deserve to find somebody. You’re a good guy, Rogers.”

“Yeah, you too, Buck.” Steve waggles his eyebrows, trying to lighten the mood, “What about you? Any special ladies?”

“Ladies aren’t really my thing, Rogers,” Bucky says, and it’s almost comical how quickly Steve’s eyes dart from Bucky’s eyes to his lips and then back again. “Single as fuck, as the kids say. But I kind of have my eye on someone.”

“Well, I hope it works out,” Steve sighs, completely oblivious. 

“So do I.”

 

* * *

 

The art history final is tomorrow, and Steve has agreed to help Bucky with one last tutoring session. He needs to work on a piece for a gallery opening, so he gives Bucky the address to his studio.

He’s so engrossed in the pen and ink drawing of a city street he’s been working on for the better part of three hours that he doesn’t hear Bucky coming up the stairs and entering the room. Doesn’t catch the wooden floorboards creaking, announcing his arrival.

So, it’s no wonder Steve nearly falls out of his chair when Bucky leans in close to his ear and whispers, “That’s incredible.”

“Jesus Christ!” Steve yelps as the chair teeters precariously, but Bucky’s quick and helps him right it before any unfortunate accidents can occur.

“Sorry, sorry,” Bucky can barely breathe, he’s laughing so hard. Steve wants to be angry at Bucky for startling him, for breaking his concentration, but he’s so beautiful like this, head thrown back, face colored with mirth.

“Shit, man, I really am sorry,” Bucky says once he’s managed to calm down. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” His features darken. “Shit, I didn’t make you fuck it up did I?”

Steve gives the piece a quick once over. “Nah, it’s good. You can relax.” 

The two of them sit down and settle into a rhythm of question and answer. Bucky’s come a long way since his first test, and Steve’s sure he’ll have no trouble acing the final. In fact, Steve’s almost positive Bucky doesn’t need him anymore, but he’s certainly not going to turn down an opportunity to gaze into those gray eyes and wish he could get his hands on that lithe frame. God he _wants_...

“Steve?” Bucky breaks Steve’s train of thought. _Thank god,_ he thinks.

“Sorry, working on these gallery sketches has me wiped,” Steve smiles sheepishly. 

“Believe, me, I know the feeling,” Bucky says, checking the time on his phone. “Shit, it’s fucking late. I gotta get some sleep if I’m gonna ace this test of yours.”

Steve chuckles, watching Bucky pack up his textbook and his notes, eyes lingering on the curve of his neck and his long fingers. What would it feel like to pepper that neck with kisses? What kind of sounds would Bucky make? What would those hands feel like gripping Steve’s shoulders?

 _Just have to get through the final,_ he thinks.

“See you tomorrow, teach,” Bucky grins as he gets up to go.

“Night, Buck. See you in the morning.”

 

* * *

 

It’s been four days since the final when Bucky gets a notification from the dating app on his phone for the first time in weeks. He rarely bothers to check it and is generally registered as inactive, so it’s always a surprise when anyone reaches out to talk to him.

His heart nearly stops at the familiar name and face. _Steve_.

After waiting about an hour so he doesn’t seem like a completely hopeless loser with nothing going on in his life (even though that’s _exactly_ what he is), Bucky replies. He really only waited an hour because it took him nearly that long to decide what to write.

**_BuckyBarnes: Thank god I won’t have to take that class again, the professor was a nightmare ;) I didn’t know you were into the online dating scene. You weren’t kidding about finding someone, huh?_ **

Steve’s reply comes much sooner than he expected.

 **_SteveRogers: Hah. Hah. You should stick with biology, I don’t think you’ve got a career in comedy. We should celebrate, though. Drinks?_ **  

Bucky feels like he’s floating when he types his reply.

**_BuckyBarnes: When?_ **

They decide tomorrow night works for both of them. Steve says he’ll swing by Bucky’s place, since it’s on the way to the bar. Bucky agrees.

**_SteveRogers: It’s a date._ **

_It’s. A. Date._

 

* * *

 

Steve’s completely unprepared for the sight of a shirtless Bucky when he opens his door.

 _Oh, fuck._  

“Hey, Rogers” Bucky says with an apologetic grin. “Come on in. Make yourself at home, I just gotta throw on a shirt. You want a drink or -” The question dies on Bucky’s lips as he turns to Steve and registers the look on his face. Steve’s eyes are dark, pupils dilated so that only a thin ring of blue is visible. 

“I think I changed my mind about drinks,” Steve says, his gaze predatory as he crowds Bucky against a kitchen counter. Bucky inhales sharply as Steve’s hands thread through his hair, tugging lightly.

“I want something else,” Steve practically purrs and delights in the shudder he can feel running through Bucky’s body. _He wants this too._

“So take it,” Bucky says and then they’re kissing like a house afire.

 

* * *

 

Bucky had always sort of tuned people out when they talked about “fireworks” and “fitting together like puzzle pieces” and how “you just _know,_ ” but holy shit, does he get it now. Bucky can’t get enough of Steve’s lips on his. He moans into the kiss and Steve’s tongue invades his mouth and _jesus, fuck, don’t stop._  

“Not gonna stop, fuck, Bucky,” Steve breathes raggedly as he nips at Bucky’s ear and Bucky  should be embarrassed that he’s already begging for it, but he really doesn’t care about anything  other than getting Steve into his bed.

“Need you,” Bucky gasps. “Please. Need you to fuck me.”

“Shhh, Buck, I gotcha,” Steve says, breaking the kiss and pulling Bucky out of the kitchen.

“Bedroom,” Steve commands and Bucky leads the way. 

Once they’re inside Bucky shuts the door behind them. He turns and Steve is on him again, slamming Bucky back against the door, grinding their hips together, nipping at Bucky’s lips.

“I like it rough, but I can hold back if you want me to,” Steve’s voice is low and commanding, but his eyes are full of concern and something else Bucky’s a little afraid to name.

“Fuck no,” Bucky grins, breathless. “We’ll have time for slow later. I’ve been waiting to fuck you for _months_. Want it rough. Wanna feel it for days, Steve.”

Steve eyes darken further as Bucky uses his first name for the first time and then he’s _lifting Bucky and tossing him onto the bed like it’s nothing_. Bucky thinks he might die from arousal and they’re still mostly clothed. 

Steve might like it rough, but he takes _forever._  Bucky’s not exactly complaining even if the slow burn of Steve’s fingers stretching him out is like torture, but that’s only because Steve sucks cock like a champ. He’s mesmerized by Steve’s gorgeous full lips around him and honestly, that’d be enough for him, but Steve pulls back before Bucky can find release. He whines, hips pistoning upward and Steve smirks.

“Relax,” he whispers. “Got you, Buck. 'Til the end of the line.”

And then he’s pushing into Bucky and it’s everything Bucky’s ever wanted as Steve thrusts into him over and over. He’s never been with someone who just seems to _know_ what he wants, but this is beyond anything he’s ever experienced, and he can’t control the sounds spilling from his lips. He doesn’t think Steve minds, since he angles his hips so that he can hit Bucky’s prostate with every thrust.

“St-Steve,” Bucky manages to gasp out. “Not gonna last. Please.”

“Close, too,” Steve grits out, wrapping a hand around Bucky’s cock and pumping in time with his thrusts. _“Come for me.”_

Bucky does.

 

* * *

 

Apparently they both doze off because when Steve wakes up, it’s dark and Bucky’s arms are wrapped around his midsection. He nudges Bucky and gets a sleepy “Mmm, hey” in return.

“Hey,” Steve says, smiling at Bucky’s disheveled appearance. “I don’t mean to be Captain Buzzkill here, but we should probably talk about this.” 

Bucky jolts upright.

“Is there something wrong? Was it not -” Steve cuts Bucky off with a finger to his lips.

“Probably shouldn’t have phrased it that way,” Steve laughs. “Makes it sound like I think it’s a mistake. I don’t. I’ve wanted to fuck you since the second you walked into my class. And I’d like to keep fucking you. Preferably forever, but we’ll take it a day at a time. If you want that too, of course.”

“You’re serious?” Bucky asks.

“Very,” Steve smiles, brushing a piece of Bucky’s hair back from his forehead. “I am stupid into you and I think you feel the same way about me if tonight’s anything to go by. You graduate in a couple days. After that, I want to date you. For real.”

The smile on Bucky’s face makes Steve’s heart swell because he knows they both know exactly what this is, even if it’s too early to say it out loud.

This is forever. ' _Til the end of the line_.

“For real? I think that’s the best idea I’ve heard from you all semester, teach.”

 

**_Fin_ **

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback is always welcome.


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